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Report From The Besieged City

In advance of tonight’s Shame of the Century Player Haters Ball The Toilet Bowl Game, here are some pictures and words and more words from your friendly neighborhood Knickerbloggers. Get us started Mike!

New York is buzzing…Nope that’s snoring.

Netsest Man In the World

Oh Cole, someday you’ll find the right coach.

How I’ll be watching the game tonight.

How the rest of the NBA will view this game…

And now, an adaptation of a Zbigniew Herbert poem by Robert. You can read the original here.

REPORT FROM THE BESIEGED BASKETBALL CITY

a poem by Robert Silverman

Too old to carry arms and fight like the others for rebounds –

they graciously gave me the inferior role of chronicler

I record – I don’t know for whom – the history of the siege of New York basketball

I am supposed to be exact but I don’t know when the invasion began

two hundred years ago in December in September perhaps yesterday at dawn

everyone here suffers from a loss of the sense of time

all we have left is the place the attachment to the place

we still rule over the ruins of temples spectres of Madison Square Gardens and Barclays houses

if we lose the ruins nothing will be left

I write as I can in the rhythm of interminable weeks

monday: empty storehouses a pasta shell became the unit of currency

tuesday: Glen Grunwald murdered by unknown assailants

wednesday: negotiations for a cease-fire the enemy has imprisoned our bloggers

we don’t know where Frank is held that is the place of torture

thursday: after a stormy team meeting a majority of voices rejected

the motion of the spice merchants for unconditional surrender

friday: the beginning of the plague saturday: our invincible defender

Iman Shumpert committed suicide sunday: no more water we drove back

an attack at the eastern gate called the Gate of Tyson Chandler’s Knees

all of this is monotonous I know it can’t move anyone

I avoid any commentary I keep a tight hold on my emotions I write about the facts

only they it seems are appreciated in foreign Twitter-ish markets

yet with a certain pride I would like to inform the world

that thanks to the war we have raised a new species of basketball-hating children

our children don’t like fairy tales of championship banners; they play at killing

awake and asleep they dream of soup of bread and bones and Deron Williams

just like dogs and cats

in the evening I like to wander near the outposts of the internet

along the frontier of our uncertain freedom.

I look at the swarms of Feltons and Blatches; soldiers below their lights

I listen to the noise of Dolan’s drums, JR’s barbarian shrieks

truly it is inconceivable the City is still defending itself

the siege has lasted a long time the enemies must take turns

nothing unites them except the desire for our extermination

Rockets, the Heat, even Bobcats; Warriors of the Emperor Stern, regiments of the Transfiguration